When Terror Strikes

Source: Les ateliers Anisa

These last few days, I have kept the television off. I was aware of what was happening in Boston, but didn't want to get dragged into the high emotion and drama of it all. It's not easy to do; but events such as this really make me reflect. Those of you who have followed my blog and writings know that I believe my outer world reveals shades of what is happening in my inner world; that my inner world is continually speaking to me through outer experiences and events. And so, when I could finally quiet my thoughts and emotions, I journeyed to that inner place and, in the stillness, sought clarity and meaning.

What immediately strikes me is the symbolism of it all: it takes place at a Finish line when, after all the effort and work and struggle, runners arrive to claim their personal prize, joyous in the knowing that they made it and that, through sheer will and effort, they have come across this line… only to have it all taken away from them. It also takes place on Patriot Day, a day commemorating the first battles that began the American Revolution.

My question to myself is then: what is going on within me that has manifested as this event? And no, it’s not that I should give up because all effort will end tragically!

I do believe that there is a revolution going on; but it is in the heart of each and every one of us. It is the struggle between what the heart desires and wishes to express openly and freely… and what fear tells us we must not dare do. We strive, we risk, we pursue our highest calling, we engage the forces of creation and the heavens to help us in our quest… we feel alive and alight in the work we do to raise ourselves and those around us. And then something happens – something completely unexpected – to make us doubt our choices, to bring us back into the folds of fear, of smallness.

It is this inner struggle of so many people which is playing out in the world today. Trust, love, understand the “other”, reach for a higher understanding… OR be in fear, anger, judgment, separation, condemnation. Those forces are continually at play within each and every one of us, with every thought and every choice that we make.

And these forces, when enough people are feeling them, eventually manifest in our physical world; but they do so that they may show you their face, so that we may see in physical reality what this struggle looks like in our invisible inner world.

Some may call that force evil, but I don’t believe it is evil which is testing us. It is Love which is challenging us to choose Love anyways… to choose from that higher place within ourselves, despite the temptation towards hatred and anger and retaliation.

Who has not struggled to lift themselves from where they are? Who has not, through their own efforts and persistence achieved a goal and gotten to the finish line? Who has not seen their dreams and accomplishments thwarted, diminished, ignored… when they should have been celebrated? How many have dared to continue on with their dreams, believing in a higher purpose to their life, even when forces around them have tried to pull them back?

Again, I don’t believe these energies are evil. It is not evil that is testing you to see if you stand firm in your dream, in your calling, in your light. It is LOVE which is testing you, LOVE which is inviting you to CHOOSE IT ANYWAYS, despite the anger, the cynicism, the fury, the desire to fall back into fear and remain small… Love is asking you to stay in that place that lifts you, and in staying there (despite evidence that pulls at you to give up and go back to anger, indignation, retaliation), you heal and uplift not only yourself but the world around you. 

Those who take on the role of perpetrating these acts, of dying in these acts, are great souls. They are part of your story, and your journey. They offer themselves, taking on your hatred, your venom so that you may CHOOSE LOVE ANWWAYS and, in so doing, unleash a great energy that heals them and yourself. In choosing Love over hatred (as many great Masters have done), all energies are healed and elevated to the light that they are.

Martin Luther King Jr. said:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

May love now and forevermore guide our steps.

~Mony

 

Thank you Oprah!

Photograph by Jean Levac, Ottawa Citizen

One of my greatest dreams has always been to meet Oprah, to be in the presence of someone who at once is both touchable and untouchable, and to simply experience that magical elixir of love, wisdom and power that she exudes.

I had tried to get tickets to the Oprah show in Chicago over the years, but never managed to get them and so gave up, contented with the fact that I could see her on TV. So to have her come to Ottawa when I just returned to living here after 25 years away seemed like a huge coincidence not to be missed!

I remember the moment that I heard the news. I was driving home, having just aired another episode of our Conscious Living radio show, and I was reflecting on how much I was enjoying the experience, even though I knew nothing about radio. I was feeling grateful to the Universe for the opportunity to explore something new, to connect with so many people of like heart and mind, and to share in the work of spreading a ray of light, even if it was only for an hour. I turned on the radio and the first news that came on was that Oprah was coming to town. Every hair on my body stood on end, and I have no idea why.

My friends, with all their best of intentions, were giving me ideas of how to get our books to her. And although yes, I dreamed of Oprah loving our books, I also didn't want any of my actions to reek of desperation! What I truly felt towards Oprah was gratitude for introducing me to a way of thinking that lifted me beyond the depths into which I had plummeted. Her guests challenged me to live my best life, and I dared to do that, even when I had no clue where that would lead me. She encouraged me to heal the deepest wounds and listen to a soul that I never realized existed. She brought tenderness, grace and some good old-fashioned tough love when I needed it; and I so appreciated that. She held out a hand and showed a way, but never presumed to know the way, pushing me to find MY way and to pick myself up when my choices led me to a path I knew I shouldn't have been walking. And THAT was the energy I wanted to bring with me to the event.

I put all those feelings in a thank you letter, and asked Alberto to capture them in an image that he drew on the envelope (above). We agreed that I would bring the books and give them to her, but only if an opportunity presented itself. I would not actively push the books onto her but rather present them, and my life lived, as a testament of how her show changed my life.

And from the moment I decided that I was attending the event as an expression of gratitude, an energy within me shifted and every little detail began to flow. I was looking for a heart sticker to decorate the envelope. I knew I had it, but could not find it. Alberto and I pored through every box and eventually gave up, deciding to buy them instead. Putting the boxes back in their place, other boxes fell down and one lid opened to reveal the stickers I was looking for! At that moment, I knew something magical was happening. When I stepped out of my car at the parking lot of the event and joined the crowds walking to the stadium, the two men walking alongside me were from the Ottawa Citizen, and would eventually photograph and videotape my interview with the journalist. Arriving at the event, I was handed a small card advertising the local "Majic" radio station. When the package containing the books opened and I went looking for tape, the young woman at the ticket counter found me some, and advised me on who to approach to deliver my package. I actually stopped in the washroom to shed some tears because I felt so overwhelmed and shaken by all that was happening.

Now, did Oprah get my books? I have no idea. And, in a way, it doesn't matter. Being at the event was the culmination of a journey that began with feeling gratitude for the bounties of my life and appreciation for that invisible hand of Love that always seemed to be at work, making things happen; and the knowing that so long as I continue to live my best life and tread my path with an open heart, the grandest of my dreams will indeed come true.

 

Short Stories from our Walk for Peace

With so many experiences to share from our pilgrimage to Jerusalem, it was impossible to include them all in one book. So we have decided to start posting some of these short stories, many of which give deeper insight into the existing stories in the book, and others which simply stand on their own as interesting stories.

The first story takes place on the Camino, where I received the initial inspiration to undertake the pilgrimage. It is called "The Oracles". Here, you will meet the legendary Tomas, the Knight Templar of Manjarin, and learn the important role he played in my final decision to walk for peace. I hope you enjoy it and buen camino!


The Oracles



Magical Dates

As we get closer to these magical dates of 12/12/12 and 12/21/12, Alberto and I would like to share with you perhaps the greatest lesson that we learned during our pilgrimages: we are not alone; there is a great hand at work moving the tiniest and grandest events of our lives and our world...and that hand is Love. At these times, we feel we are all being called to heal the divisions and conflicts within our own minds and hearts, so that we may heal those same divisions in the world. The shift that is happening is inner. The healing that we are witnessing is inner. And as greater and greater numbers of individuals embark on this journey of awakening and healing, so does the outer change occur even more rapidly. Our only task is to stand strong in our own light, our own authenticity, and in so doing, we remind others of their innate power, their innate divinity, and their innate choice to BE the change they wish to see in the world. ♥

~Mony and Alberto

On Jerusalem and Rainbows

A few days ago, I watched the Spanish book trailer of Coelho’s latest book called “Manuscript found in Accra”. I had no idea what the book was about, and so was very surprised to learn that the story takes place in Jerusalem, in 1097, on the eve of the Crusades entering a city whose major religions had hitherto been living in peace. While awaiting the imminent invasion, the people gather to ask a wise man to speak about various themes: life, love, fear, death. It reminded me a great deal of Khalil Gibran’s “The Prophet”. They also discuss what makes up the soul of the city, and decide to hide it until the conflict is over and peace is restored to the land.

Jerusalem, and that entire region, had been on my mind lately, of course, because of recent events there. Although in my heart I know that the path to peace is inner, I was having a difficult time holding on to that. I couldn’t find clarity. I couldn’t calm my emotions. Even after watching a spectacular TED presentation on how to stop violence without becoming violent, I couldn’t find centre.

At the same time, for the past week, I had been reading with my daughter (as part of her homework) about Jerusalem and the Crusades. We were specifically reading about the year 1099, when the Crusades captured Jerusalem.

Clearly, these were not mere coincidences. There was something there for me to consider; so I decided to go for a walk to see if I could gain some clarity.

The day was clear, the sun was brilliant and the air brisk; so you can imagine my surprise when I saw the trace of a rainbow around the sun. Now, I love rainbows. They are magnificent creations and, to me, represent the highest symbol of divinity and grace. Whenever I see one, I feel as if the heavens are saying hello, reminding me of their presence not only in my life, but in all life.

I thanked that little rainbow for appearing, and tucked it away as encouragement from the heavens to feel hopeful. I continued on my walk, enjoying the day, and as I looked up once again, I could not believe what I saw. In that clear blue sky was what I can only describe as a smiling rainbow, or the bottom arc of a rainbow. I was beyond incredulous and stopped to look at it for the longest time. Even when I thought I lost it a few times during that walk, whenever I turned a corner or looked through some trees, there it was again, a little fainter, but still fully visible. I took some pictures with my phone, but can’t seem to download them. The picture above comes from the Internet, but is what I saw.

That rainbow was with me for over half an hour. As I walked back home, contemplating its significance, I stopped to pick up a discarded piece of paper along the path and couldn’t contain my amazement. I brought it home, the final traces of that rainbow saying its final goodbye as I got to my front door.

Here’s the paper at my feet:

It was a Rainbow Mine firecracker wrapper, made by the Mystical Distribution company! Clearly the heavens and the rainbows were speaking to me that day, trying to bring me the clarity I sought. And so, as I sat to meditate later that night, these are the words that emerged. I’ve only done minor editing.

There is no outer. There is no other. There is naught but the inner: the rebellion within; the massacre within; the bloodshed within as the forces within you try to unite. The ground on which their reunification must take place is on the land of the Christ, in the realm and kingdom of the Christ light (or Buddha or Krishna light…here, I refer to that universal Divine light that transcends all dogma and religion, whose essence is Love). It is upon this light that all parties, all divisions, must merge into. What you are seeing in the outer planes is the inner revolution; the resistance to the consciousness that is overtaking your soul and the soul of the planet. The soul of Jerusalem is in the hands and hearts of its people living together. That is the soul that is uniting, and that is resisting. All you can – and MUST – do is keep the terrain, the land of the Christ in your heart, pure. Keep it sacred, untouched by these passing currents. Take into your heart the suffering and pain that you feel from all sides, and TRANSMUTE IT. Bring it back to balance, to harmony, like the beautiful music that you have been hearing of late; the music made by Palestinians and Israelis coming together to create harmony. It is happening.

Embrace within your own heart the Palestinian and the Israeli, the aggressor and the victim. Both archetypes are within you, and are playing themselves out for you in this aching drama. Bring them into you; and as vehemently as they struggle, you shine equally as brilliantly. They are closer than ever, even though they seem so far apart. Hold the light steady. Keep the terrain clean. Do not abandon them now. Radiate the love that you are, and allow the anger, the fear, the antimony to dissolve. That is your only role. Keep gazing within. Keep the warrior’s heart clean and strong. Prepare the land for unification; for only in the land of light will darkness naturally, and of its own volition, dissolve.

Blessed be.

Perhaps Coelho is right. The soul of Jerusalem does reside in the heart of each and every one of its inhabitants; in their hopes, in their dreams, in their highest of intentions and tiniest of acts. But it also resides within us too. We each carry a piece of Jerusalem, and it is up to each and every one of us to heal our piece: that part within us that is in conflict, the bully and victim within us, that which is silent within us and that which clamours to be heard…and all those fragments that refuse to bow to the Light, to the Love, that is our essence. Only by healing those shattered pieces within our hearts may we be able to offer that all-important peace to the whole.

And so I thank you, inner conflict, for revealing yourself to me in this way. Without you, without this external drama, I wouldn’t be at this place now, grappling to find wisdom and meaning. Thank you Israelis and Palestinians for taking on this terrible role, so that we may see the conflict and division in our own hearts. I am preparing your land in the meadows and valleys of my heart, where you may finally rest and find strength and wisdom in the glory of the Light that you too are. Thank you, thank you and thank you.

"We are the World"

In any long pilgrimage, there are moments of monotony, where walking day-in, day-out, putting one foot in front of the other, takes on a certain routine.

To pass the time, Alberto and I often resorted to singing... not together, since neither spoke (or sang!) in the other's language. The oddest songs would pop into my mind. "Amazing Grace", most of whose lyrics I don't know, but whose tune kept playing over and over in my mind. "I'm all out of Love" by Air Supply (yeah, I can't figure that one out either!). And of course, when it was raining - "Singing in the Rain".  

Occasionally, I would hear Alberto singing songs in Spanish to tunes I recognized, like Simon & Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence" or "The Little Drummer Boy" sung in Spanish.

One day, he started to sing the lyrics to "We are the World", by USA for Africa. I don't know why, but it really grated on my nerves. I couldn't stand hearing it; and the more I asked him to sing it in his head, the louder he got. So I decided to retaliate with the only song that came into my head at that time - Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You out of my Head".

So whenever he started on his lyrics, I would respond with "la la la, la la la la la..."

Over the years, "We are the Children" has taken on a special meaning in our lives. Whenever we hear it, it brings a smile to our faces and a whole host of memories from our walk.

Last week, Sylvana brought home the song that her school choir is preparing for the upcoming assembly: "We are the Children". She asked to hear the song so she could practise along. We put it on, and as she sang, the words on her lips seemed to emerge from her very heart. I couldn't stop the tears, and as I looked over at Alberto, saw that he too had tears in his eyes.

We joined in her song, the words taking on a whole new meaning for me and sounding more beautiful than ever.

A Heavenly Encounter

A few days ago, one of my aunts called to tell me about an unusual experience that has still left her shaken. She had decided to go on a weekend spiritual retreat at a centre north of her home, a place she had not visited for over 10 years. She opted to stay in a cabin secluded from everyone and participated in a few workshops, keeping mostly to herself. On Sunday, she decided to attend that morning's service.

Only a handful of people were in attendance. At the moment when the priest asks attendees to say "peace be with you" to the person nearest them, my aunt does so with a woman sitting beside her. My aunt introduces herself. The woman does the same.

"Your name sounds Lebanese," says this woman named Lise.

"I am Lebanese," my aunt responds.

"I knew a Lebanese woman a long time ago," Lise continues. "We did a business and secretary course about fifty years ago. Her name was Najet."

"Oh really?" My aunt answers. "What's her last name?"

"Garzouzi."

My aunt said she froze in shock, as did I when she told me the story. That was my mother's maiden name. This woman named Lise had met my mother when my mom had just arrived in Canada, at the age of seventeen, before she got married, and before her life changed as she progressively lost her vision to Behçet's syndrome. She remembered my grandparents, and even more curiously, lives in the same neighbourhood where my aunt and uncle owned a restaurant. It's even possible that she dined there over the years. She had lost contact with my mother as she (Lise) travelled with her work, and so was deeply saddened to hear of her struggles and untimely death.

Lise painted a picture of my mom as a vital, intelligent and deeply spiritual young woman with an easy laugh and keen wit. Someone who wasn't afraid to face life, a woman of great courage and conviction. As someone who grew up caring for an ailing parent, this vision of my mother was a marvelous revelation and a grand gift. It shifted something inside of me that I still can't quite define.

Of course the biggest question in all of this is: what is the meaning of this encounter? My aunt and I went to visit my mom at the cemetary, still asking those same questions: How did Lise remember my mother's full name - fifty years later? It's not exactly a common name. And my aunt deciding to go that very same weekend after so many years of not doing so?  And the woman sitting next to her just happening to know my mother?  This was no mere coincidence. I have no doubt that my mom orchestrated this beautiful reunion... but for what grand purpose?

The winds that day were silent, but the sun shone brilliantly. Perhpas one day, all will come to light.